Gwaine and the Necklace: The Loser's Prize
by Kitty O
Summary: "It's not valuable or anything. But I have to find it." No matter what Arthur says, Gwaine must find his lost chain. Merlin has to wonder why it's so important to the knight. No slash. For the Gwaine and the Necklace challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Alright. This is written for Mrs. Bonner's challenge: Gwaine and the Necklace. Basically the idea is to write about… Gwaine's necklace, and why he always wears it. This will be a multi-chapter, but not a more than a few chapters. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I've heard that the pendant or whatever it's called actually belongs to Eoin, not the character, and that he always wears it. If it's something of sentimental value to the actor, I honestly don't mean any harm and I don't mean to make light of it if it's important. This is just about Gwaine, who as a character I am free to play around with. Is that cool? _

_**Now, the contest is won by review count,** so of course I would love if people would review and help me win. However**, reviews have to be signed to count** **for the contest**, so though I still love you anon reviewers who tell me what you think, please don't think cheating by reviewing multiple times will work. Not that I think anyone would do that._

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><p><strong>The Loser's Prize<strong>

They hadn't expected the attack.

It had just been the "new" knights, as Merlin thought of them, as well as the king and Merlin. They'd been out hunting. Arthur was trying to chase all confusing thoughts of how he'd treated Mithian and how he felt about Gwen out of his head. Merlin had been very close to mocking him about how killing things mended broken hearts—but then he remembered where he had heard the line from and he'd choked on the words.

So they'd gone hunting, but the knights had wanted to come along, and in the end it was a small group of men that left Camelot for a few days, leaving Agravaine in charge (against Merlin's better judgment). But Merlin comforted himself that Gaius would keep things together.

It was the first night, only a few hours into the trip, and blackness had fallen over the forest, so they built a fire and sat around the warm, flying sparks, talking back and forth. The knights kept Arthur from melancholy with their almost-obnoxious cheerfulness. Percival, having just heard a slightly-inappropriate but oh-so-very-funny joke from Elyan, had just thrown his head back to laugh out loud when an arrow sliced through the air and landed in the back of the big man's shoulder.

Percival's laugh turned into a roar of pain, and everyone leapt to their feet to face the enemy. There were about a dozen of them, black-garbed men with no distinguishing marks. They attacked fiercely, seemingly after blood, not goods.

Merlin backed into a tree, grabbing a long stick from the ground, and dispatched one with a flash of his eyes, trying to keep and eye on Arthur at the same time. Arthur had thrown himself into the fray with a ferocity that made it look like he had been hoping for a fight. The other knights joined the fight with almost as much enthusiasm, except for Elyan, who hung back slightly so he could remain near Percival, who was slumped on the floor, trying to pick up his sword.

Merlin looked away to strike out at the man who'd gotten close to him. The man gave a holler, thinking Merlin an easy target, and went in for the kill. Several seconds later, that man was dead and Merlin was glad that Arthur went so hard on him when the king trained the knights. Looking back over his friends, he quickly killed a man with magic who was trying to overwhelm the king, and then noticed that Percival had given up with the sword and was just using his body—fists, arms, legs. Gwaine gave a yell as someone nearly beat him, but managed to recover.

And in just a few minutes, it was over.

_It was a weak attempt, _Merlin noted. Agravaine and Morgana were probably desperate. That made him smile tightly.

Arthur finished off the last attacker, straightened his back, wiped his head, and called, "Men! Is everyone alright?"

Gwaine and Leon came crashing back through the trees, both assuring Arthur with raised voices that they were alive and uninjured. Merlin came away from his tree and nodded. "Have I ever told you," Merlin said, "how much I hate your hunting trips?"

Arthur laughed.

"Here, Percival's injured," called Elyan from by the fire. All signs of light-heartedness left Arthur as he rushed to attend to the knight.

"Is it bad?"

Percival was crouched on the ground, leaning against another tree, gritting his teeth while Elyan tried to push aside his chainmail to see the wound clearly. "I'll live," he said. "It was the arrow."

"Who was the archer?" asked Arthur.

"He's dead, back there," Gwaine said, pointing absentmindedly.

"We're only a few hours from Camelot," Arthur noted, looking over Percival. "Can you ride? It would be better just to take you back to Gaius."

"I can," said Percival. "But… the trip…"

Arthur shook his head and waved that thought aside. The fighting had actually done him some good. He didn't look so somber anymore. "Only the prey are supposed to get hit during these trips," he said. Percival smiled reluctantly. "We'll head back."

Elyan started helping Percival to his feet. Gwaine leant over to help. But then he stopped, looking alarmed, and his outstretched hand came back towards his body and rested right on his collarbone.

"Oh, no," he said, standing up. He ran his hand over his neck, and then looked down his shirt. He actually looked a little comedic, but the panic on his face kept Merlin from laughing. "I've lost it!"

"What?" said Arthur.

Gwaine was already tearing towards the other side of the impromptu battlefield.

"His necklace," said Merlin suddenly. "That's what it is, right?"

Gwaine nodded, his usually smiling face sober. "It must have come off during the battle. I need to find that."

"Gwaine," Arthur said in a tone of surprise. "You'll never find it now. It could be anywhere."

The knight looked up at him with a set face. "I have to find it!"

"Why? Is it important?"

Gwaine's mouth opened, then closed, then opened, and at last he grumbled, "I… suppose not. It's not valuable or anything. But I have to find it."

"We have to get Percival back," Arthur said. "Leave it, Gwaine, we have to get moving." He turned back to Percival, who was attempting to get on his horse with the use of only one hand. Leon and Elyan both tried to help, but were more of a hindrance. "Let's go."

Merlin thought that was a little harsh coming from a man who'd recently changed his mind about getting married due to a piece of jewelry. But Arthur was not trying to be cruel; he simply did not see the hidden look on Gwaine's face or the seriousness of his words.

Gwaine glared after Arthur for a second before he ducked his head and muttered, just loudly enough to be heard, "Yes, Sire." And then he began to follow after Arthur.

Merlin, right behind Gwaine as the group moved to put out the fire and get moving, despite how dark it was outside, reflected that Arthur probably thought that was the end of it. But Merlin knew Gwaine and he knew that look, so he knew better.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin noted Agravaine's surprised expression when they all came back alive and nodded to himself. That mystery: solved. Probably a bunch of men Morgana hired for the job, but they were dead and Merlin was satisfied it was just a desperate move.

They brought Percival to Gaius and got him patched up and his arm put into a sling "until further notice", physician's orders. And then, even though the sun was just coming up, everyone went to sleep. Arthur wanted to stay awake and get some work done, but he decided that he wouldn't be any use to anyone sleep-deprived.

In other words, Gaius ordered him to bed.

Merlin, however, had a feeling. So he didn't sleep; instead, he stopped by Arthur's room and cast a quick protective spell on his door (after all, if they were getting _that _desperate…), and then headed back to Gaius's chambers and waited.

Gaius saw him pacing by the door and raised an eyebrow. "Waiting for someone, Merlin?"

Merlin looked up. "Gwaine should pass by soon," he said. "I think I hear his footsteps now."

"Some kind of trouble?"

"No, probably not. I should be back by the end of the day," Merlin said, dashing for the door. "Oh, and Gaius?"

Gaius, who was reading some boring old tome, looked up.

"When Arthur asks where I am, _don't_ tell him I'm in the tavern. I'm collecting herbs if he asks."

Gaius looked slightly embarrassed. "Of course," he replied.

"Don't forget," insisted Merlin, hand on the doorknob. "_Collecting herbs_."

"I won't forget."

Merlin didn't believe him, but he sighed and left the room quickly. Gwaine had passed the room by and was already near the street. He had on his red cloak, making him easy to spot. Merlin caught up with him quickly, tapping him on the shoulder and calling, "Gwaine."

Gwaine spun around, hand on his weapon, but then he saw the identity of the person who'd snuck up on him and relaxed. "Merlin," he said. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I imagine for the same reason you aren't," Merlin told him. "I want to help you."

"I don't know what you mean," said Gwaine, but the smile was starting on his face. He never was able to keep it away.

"Well, if you're sneaking out of Camelot despite what the king told you, you must have a good reason and I assume you'll want company. We're going back to the woods where we were attacked, right?"

Gwaine eyed him warily for a second, and then laughed and nodded. "Yes," he said. "I believe company would be welcome."

"Good," said Merlin, smiling. "So we're grabbing the horses and leaving?"

"That's the idea."

"One question, though," said Merlin, falling into step next to Gwaine as they headed across the courtyard lit by early morning. "If I help you find this necklace…"

"I call it a pendant."

"Fine. If I help, will you tell me why it's so important?"

Gwaine thought over this. "Sure," he said at last. "It's a bit of a lengthy story…"

"But then when have you minded doing a lot of talking?" Merlin said as they reached the stables, and Gwaine laughed his deep laugh again as he headed for his horse.

"You know what it looks like, don't you?" asked Gwaine.

"A silver charm and a ring on a chain, isn't it?" Merlin guessed, getting his own horse ready. He considered himself pretty observant; after all, he had to be able to spot danger from a mile away.

"Yeah," agreed Gwaine, mounting up. "I got the two charms separately. The first belonged to my sister… You wouldn't have liked her… boring toad, really…"

**A/N: So, I'll get the next chapter up when I can. Please review. **


	3. Chapter 3

They found the place quickly enough. There were still dead men littered around the floor, blood seeping into the ground. It was a bit gross, but Merlin wasn't squeamish—he'd seen enough of that sort of thing since he'd become Arthur's servant.

"You sure you dropped it around here?"

"I had it before we were attacked," Gwaine replied firmly. "I remember it being there when I was talking to Elyan. And after the fight, it wasn't."

"It's got to be here, then," Merlin agreed. "Let's spread out. You start at the archer – that's as far away as you got while fighting. I'll start at the fire, and we'll meet in the middle."

Gwaine wandered off his way and Merlin went towards the fire.

They walked towards each other, squinting at the ground and occasionally bending down to push a log or limb out of the way so they could see better. Merlin took care not to step on anyone. But when they met in the middle, there was no necklace to be found, so they walked past each other and went over ground that the other man had already searched.

"Nothing," said Gwaine. "Let's fan out."

The area was too large, Merlin noted, and sighed. If they went over this whole thing with a fine-tooth comb, as Merlin could see that Gwaine was perfectly prepared to do, perhaps literally, then they wouldn't get back to Camelot in time to ensure that Merlin was not used for target practice. Not that Gwaine would care. Knights didn't seem to understand.

After turning in a useless circle with his eyes flickering over the battlefield for a moment, Merlin made up his mind. "What's that?" he said to Gwaine, pointing at a spot on the ground somewhere behind the knight. It was the oldest trick in the book. So old, even Merlin had fallen for it.

Gwaine did too, and turned immediately, heading for the spot that Merlin had pointed at.

Merlin ducked his head. "_Dangos y gadwyn."_

The difference was noticeable at once. Little bits of light seemed to flicker on the ground, almost as if Merlin was walking on the nightsky. Metal bits, perhaps. Merlin wasn't sure, but they didn't interest him. He saw what he wanted about fifteen paces away.

"Merlin, I don't see anything."

"Hold on!" If the other pieces were the stars, this was the moon, with steady, pale light over by a tree. Merlin skipped over to it and scooped it from the ground, calling off the spell and beaming. "I've found it, Gwaine!"

Gwaine came running over and took the pendant from Merlin's hands. It was his, alright. It had the silver object with an almost moon-like shape and the ring on a chain, but the chain was snapped.

Gwaine made a dismayed noise as he held it up.

"We can get it fixed," said Merlin, and Gwaine nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed, and smiled, slapping Merlin on the back. "Thanks for finding it, Merlin."

Merlin smiled and nodded a little bashfully.

"We should head back," Gwaine said, heading for his horse.

"Wait!" Merlin interrupted. "What about the story?'

Gwaine stopped and chuckled, playing with the necklace in his hand a bit. "I forgot," he admitted. "Alright, you want to know the story. It comes in two parts…"

"The first part involves your sister? I didn't even know you had a sister."

"I don't talk about her much," Gwaine said. "Try to forget we're related, really. I used to tell her she was an ugly hag" – here Gwaine grinned with half of his mouth – "and I think she took it personally."

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><p><em>Gwaine's sister wasn't really ugly in anyone's eyes, nor was she boring, but she was no Gwaine, that was for sure. She was, much as a little sister could be, the opposite of her wild brother… <em>

**A/N: Yes, we'll finally get into the story. Thanks for reading this far, and please do send a review! **


	4. Chapter 4

Gwaine's sister wasn't really ugly in anyone's eyes, nor was she boring, but she was no Gwaine, that was for sure. She was, much as a little sister could be, the opposite of her wild brother. Where he was wild, Elaine was responsible. Where he was easy-going, she was uptight. She thought it was her duty to be careful and good and unerringly sober, especially since Gwaine, the oldest, wasn't.

And it irked her. It had always irked her that he couldn't pull himself together. As she told him once, while dumping him onto the floor of his room after supporting him all the way home, "You're supposed to be the one looking after me, older brother." But he was too tired to answer sharply after the fight he'd been in, so she relented and said, "I'm going to get mother so she can take care of those bruises."

She had turned around and started for the door, but he stopped her with a grunt.

Elaine turned back around.

"Thanks," he said.

She gave him a tiny smile, and it made her face soften greatly. "You skipped lessons again to do this?" she said with a shake of her head. "I love you, Gwaine, but I think you deserved every licking you ever got."

He chuckled as he dragged himself to his bed. She needed to learn to relax. She would be much happier, just as he was happy. He wouldn't vex her if she would learn to laugh sometimes.

They'd existed that way for years; he angered her, she would be unhappy, and she would insist that though she loved him, she really hated him sometimes. It wasn't peaceful, but he didn't mind. She did. She thought he'd get himself killed before he was twenty.

It was all fine by him.

And then his uncle, who helped them with their payments and was like a father to Gwaine, died. They had no more money to waste, no more jokes to laugh about, and no one else to mediate their fights.

Gwaine knew he needed to pull himself together, and he tried, but it was hard. He thought he was making progress—slowly, yes, but progress. Elaine didn't agree. She was more shrewish than ever, he thought, always on to him about something, ragging on him for not being good enough or for stressing out their mother.

"Why can't you come home before dark?" she ranted once. "Why can't you stop drinking? We don't have money for alcohol! Why don't you stick around here, find a job…"

"I'm trying," he yelled back one time, finally losing his temper and unable to bear it in silence. "I'm trying! And I'm not drunk; I was out looking for some work to do!"

She was not abashed. "Well?"

"They wouldn't hire me. Didn't need a noble, I guess—not good at much, they said."

"Maybe if you had a better reputation, less time drinking…"

"Please, Elaine," their mother said, standing a little away and wringing her hands. "Let's not fight tonight."

Elaine's eyes were red and her nose was swollen. Gwaine hadn't noticed before now, when she sniffed and looked around at her family helplessly. "Why do you always take his side?" she moaned. "He's nothing but trouble! He doesn't do anything!"

Her mother looked tearful. "I'm not taking sides, dear. But can't we have peace?"

"Peace? His drunken songs are hardly peaceful!"

Their mother's face creased sadly. Gwaine winced. "Elaine," he said sharply. "Stop, you're the one stressing her out."

Elaine wheeled on him, but didn't have any words to say. It was true. She was the one causing their mother distress. Frustration was painted all over her face—as though she couldn't believe that for all Gwaine's faults, she was the bad guy.

"I can't believe this!" she cried with all the fury in her mourning teenage heart. "I hate this family! I hate it!"

"Elaine!" Gwaine said, stepping towards their mother, who had begun to cry in earnest.

"I do!" she insisted. "No one listens to me!" And, for lack of a better gesture to show her sincerity, she ripped the charm that she'd gotten from their mother – the crescent-shaped silver piece that had been her great-grandmother's – from her neck and threw the chain upon the floor. Huffing, she turned and stomped away.

Gwaine scooped up the necklace and put it back in his pocket. "She doesn't mean it," he assured his mother, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders. "She's just upset. She doesn't really hate the family. It's a good family, and I'm proud to be part of it."

That night Elaine came back looking for the necklace on their floor, but Gwaine did not offer it to her and she was too embarrassed to ask where it had gone. The next day everything was back to normal, but in his heart Gwaine had not forgiven Elaine for making their mother cry. He never really did, and he never forgot that she had said she hated the family.

So he didn't give the necklace back. Not when their mother died. Not when Elaine married. Not when he left the town.

He didn't give back the family piece to his sister, the respectable one. Instead he, the loser of the family, the one who'd never really conquered his bad habits, kept it and wore it around his neck.

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><p>"That's how I got it," Gwaine said, finishing the abridged version that he'd given Merlin. "I still wear it."<p>

"What about the ring?" asked Merlin as he spurred his horse on a bit, catching up to Gwaine as they rode away from the battle site. "That wasn't your sister's, was it?"

Gwaine's face took on a much more serious expression as he fingered the ring and cleared his throat. "No," he said, sadly, but then he tried to smile unsuccessfully. "I got the ring from another female."

**A/N: More to come. Please, please review. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, so I might have made a mess up last chapter. I did say that Gwaine's father was alive when Gwaine was. I didn't mean to, sorry. I fixed it, though I'm not sure how well it worked—instead, it was his uncle. Thanks for pointing it out, fernazab!**

**Oh, incidentally, if anyone wants to check out and answer the poll on my profile, that would be nice.**

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><p>Gwaine had been wandering for months. He hadn't been doing much, mostly getting drunk and causing problems. He had some money saved—what little inheritance had finally made its way to him from his uncle, though most of it went to his sister's dowry. But he was loathe to use that money, and since he had discarded his nobleman status some time ago, he was now working for a living, blowing each coin as he got it.<p>

He finally walked into one little town and asked for a job from a butcher. He needed the money—he had a powerful itch in the back of his throat, pleading with him to drink something.

The butcher, a jolly man with a red face, handed him a broom and told him he'd get some money for as long as he was useful. Gwaine flipped his hair out his face, beaming at the man and at once starting to sweep the floor.

As he swept, he began to sing a tavern song. He'd learned it a few towns back, and the lively tune had captured his fancy at once. Gwaine wasn't much of a singer, but the day was young and so was he, and it made him want to sing. And he'd never seen a reason not to do what he wanted.

As he went on, getting more and more into the song, he became aware that he had an audience. He knew it without turning around, and not wanting to disappoint, he began to dance, the broom as his partner. He got very into the whole thing, aiming to please, until at last he heard the helpless sounds of someone in nearly hysterical laughter.

He turned around finally to see who had been watching, and spotted the butcher's lovely brunette young daughter – a girl about his age – sitting on the floor, holding her stomach and shaking from merriment.

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><p>Gwaine had planned on moving on months ago. It was her that kept him in this little town, working for her father. Alice was her name, and she was kind and good-hearted and had a great sense of humor and Gwaine thought he was falling in love with her.<p>

He talked to her whenever he had the chance, taking her for walks and bringing her things from the market when she asked. At first he thought it was just her beauty (which he'd secretly always considered the best part of a girl), but when he willingly canceled his trip to the tavern because she asked if he would like a picnic, he knew it was serious.

So he went and bought a ring.

It wasn't very expensive, but he dipped into his inheritance to buy it. It was a plain band, but she liked simple things… Not ones that were too "busy", as she described them.

The ring in his pocket, he went and talked to her father.

"You aren't exactly the sort of man I'd pictured her marrying," admitted the butcher in his frank way. "You don't even have a proper job."

"But I'll get one," Gwaine said.

"And you aren't very steady…"

"She makes me steady, she really does," Gwaine swore.

The butcher looked Gwaine in the face. "Would you always take care of her?"

"Yes. Always." Gwaine's hands tightened together as he awaited the judgment of the butcher.

The large man thought it over, and at last he leaned back in his seat and said, "My Alice is a wise girl. If she will accept you, then you can marry her."

Gwaine closed his eyes with joy. "Thank you," he said.

And then he leapt to his feet and rushed out the door, desperate to find her at once and have his answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Gwaine finally found her in the marketplace. She was simultaneously trying to argue with the man over a piece of cloth and talking to the man's wife about some bit of gossip which only interested women.

"Go on, you're pulling my leg," Alice laughed. "No, not you, Martha."

Gwaine smiled largely and rushed over, taking her by the elbow. She looked up at him with surprise and then a smile. "Hello, Gwaine," she said.

"Alice, darling," he said, then stopped and noticed that Martha and her husband were both looking at him, a little peeved at being interrupted. And then he decided he didn't care. Grinning, he reached into his pocket. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about," he said.

"Can it wait?" Alice asked. "I was right in the middle of talking…"

"It's kind of important."

"Okay, then." She shot Martha an apologetic glance. "What is it?"

"Perhaps we should go over there…"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm right in the middle of buying something, Gwaine," she said, and he could see she was a little annoyed as well. "What is it? I'm listening."

He shrugged, and pulled the ring out of his pocket. "I wanted to ask," he said, "if you would marry me." He smiled roguishly as her eyes flickered down to the ring in his fingers.

Martha gasped. Her husband stared.

Alice's mouth dropped, and a second later so did her basket. Her hand went up to her mouth, and he noticed her eyes shone with tears. Then, once she was able to speak again, she looked at him and whispered, "Are you going to kneel?"

He looked down a little nervously. "Should I?"

"Don't bother," she said, and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes," she said with warmth. "I'll marry you!"

Martha clapped and her husband bellowed, "For the happy couple, the cloth is only ten!"

Alice laughed as she looked at him through Gwaine's hair and over his shoulder. "Eight is still the best you're getting."

But then she didn't say anything else, because Gwaine, overwhelmed, kissed her right there in the middle of the busy street, and she let him. She put the ring on her finger.

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><p>It had been a month. A month of wedding preparations, and since Alice "didn't believe in long engagements", there was only a week left.<p>

He could wait a week, he'd thought happily as he went about helping to prepare for the wedding. He, along with Alice's father and brother, was busy a lot, due to the list of things Alice had drawn up to be done.

No one dared complain, either. Her brother had tried one day, only to be answered with a steely glare and the stern words, "This is my wedding. It _will_ be just right. Won't it?" She'd raised her eyebrow and her brother had hit the road running.

It would be just right.

Today had been a stressful, busy day, and between the dinner-hunting, wood-chopping, and whatever-else-he'd-done (it all started to blend together) he was exhausted… and thirsty. He hadn't been to the tavern in three weeks. Alice had kept him too busy for that. She didn't really like the tavern, though she had assured him that she wouldn't keep him from his occasional trips there when they were married. But he didn't want to displease her when they were about to marry, and besides, he was trying to show to her father that he was steady.

But tonight, all he wanted was a tankard of mead.

He could feel the itching that always accompanied heavy drinking in the back of his throat. He tried to talk himself out of it—he really did. But he just wanted one, and then he could leave the tavern and go back to bed and no one would be the wiser. And what was the problem?

Plus, once he was married, he'd never have a chance to sneak out again.

That thought decided him. He had rolled out of bed and was in the tavern before he knew it, sitting at the bar and asking the man behind it for a tankard of mead.

He got it, and that's when things got a bit blurry.

When he was finished, that didn't seem like quite enough. And he'd never do this again. So he ordered another and complimented the man on his fine mead.

It was halfway through the second one when the young woman joined him at the bar. He'd seen her in the town, but most people avoided her because of her reputation. She was sort of pretty, he'd always thought; nothing very special, though. But tonight she looked… ravishing. Maybe it was the lighting, he told himself. (It probably wasn't.)

She introduced herself. Later, he wouldn't remember her name. He knew he responded with his own name, and after a second of thinking, he downed the rest of his mead and announced to her with glee that he was going to be married next week.

She beamed for him. "Well," she said, and he remembered that line perfectly later, "that's wonderful! Good for you! I think that calls for another tankard. Bartender?"

It was probably in the middle of the third tankard that she said something – heavens help him, he couldn't remember what it was! – and he remembered being moved by pity. And somehow, the next thing he knew, he was leaning forward, breathing alcohol in her face, but she didn't seem to mind. And then he was kissing her.

He wished that was the last thing he could remember.


	7. Chapter 7

Of course Alice found out.

It never really seriously occurred to Gwaine to try to hide it from her. He wasn't quite that low. And if the thought did come to his mind after he woke up with his hand in another woman's hair, it was banished by the time Gwaine left her house that morning.

He left barely five minutes after he awoke; there was no reason to stay. She woke up several minutes after he did, and she dismissed him easily, having no more interest in him. Gwaine had the vague feeling that he should apologize, but then, she was hardly a victim here—there was only one person in this mess who deserved an apology.

And frankly, Gwaine was terrified of her.

He left the house shortly after the woman's dismissal, a horrible feeling growing deep in his gut.

Gwaine was in despair. It wasn't apparent on his face, but Gwaine had the sinking feeling that stoicism was all he had left, and he didn't want to lose that. He knew it couldn't be hidden, if he even wanted to try—who knew how many people had seen him in that tavern last night? Why had he even gone in the first place? He couldn't even try to stay sober a week before his wedding? What was _wrong_ with him? He couldn't believe he'd done that.

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><p>"I can't believe you did that."<p>

Gwaine gave a little wince at Alice's words. She hadn't yelled yet, but he had a feeling it was only a matter of time. She couldn't possibly remain calm. No woman could.

"What were you thinking?" she said, her voice strained. Hardly original words, but that didn't make it any easier to come up with an answer. He _hadn't_ been thinking.

Alice had come and found him, which made things a bit easier for him. She knew, he saw at once, not taking much comfort in the fact that she probably wouldn't murder him in the public square right here. Her cheeks had been flushed, and she opened her mouth as though to scream abuse, but before the words even made their way out her mouth her voice seemed to die.

She looked around, her eyes flickering over the crowd. They all seemed to be walking.

Then she looked back at Gwaine. He stared back at her, wondering what he should say.

"Come with me," she said, and turned to walk away.

He followed her into the woods, a bit away from the village, silent all the while. He knew now that he should say something. But he had no excuses, nothing, just a pounding headache and a horrible sense of foreboding.

His uncle used to tell him that a real man faced up to consequences. But he felt like being a real man might be a bit overrated; all he wanted to do was run away.

Then she turned around. She still didn't scream, but she spoke, and the words were like knives. _I can't believe you did that; what were you thinking; how could you._

He managed to keep a straight face for all of it, the feeling just growing in his middle.

"We are supposed to get married in a week!" she said with feeling, but still her yelling seemed to have failed her.

And then Gwaine flinched.

"How does it look to have you sleeping around with some… _trollop?_ I don't know about you, Gwaine, but I have this thing called a _reputation_." Her sarcasm had not failed her. "Is this something you do often? Just go around to towns and ruin a girl's chance for an honest marriage?" That's when he saw the tears shining in her eyes.

Gwaine felt sick. He'd realized she would be angry, and she had every right to be. Foolish as it may be, it had never crossed his mind that he had just hurt her badly.

Finally, Gwaine spoke. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

She shook her head. "But it did happen! It did! And it'll happen again."

"No," he said at once, shaking his head. "It will never happen again… I promise, I drank too much, I shouldn't have but I wouldn't do it again."

Her mouth and hand shook. She covered her mouth for a moment, trying to stop herself from sobbing, and the tears didn't fall from her eyes. After a moment, she could speak. "If it happened once," she said, "It can again. If it can happen a week before your marriage, you wouldn't stop once we…" She choked on her own voice, and a sob finally came from her throat. The tears ran over.

Gwaine felt frozen. He wanted to hold her, to make her stop crying—every tear was another failure on his part, and he'd promised her forever; he'd promised…

Sobbing softly to herself, biting her lip and trying desperately to function, Alice ripped the ring from her finger and held it out to Gwaine.

He stared at it.

"Take it," she said.

"No," he said. "I want you to keep it…"

"I won't marry you," she said.

He swallowed. He felt like he was slipping off the slope of a cliff and no one was offering a hand to help him up. "Alice…"

"Take the ring!" she said, her breath catching, trying to raise her voice into a shout.

He stared at her hand. "I understand, but I want you to keep it… Because it's yours, and I…" He swallowed. "I love you still."

"I don't care," she said. "I hate you." And then she threw the ring down onto the grass as though its touch burned her.

Gwaine looked at it. Then back at her.

She was still sobbing. "I didn't mean that," she choked out. "I didn't…" She shook her head, wiping her face desperately with her hands. "Just take it and go," she said. "Leave town, leave me my life…"

Gwaine would listen to her wishes this one last time. He wished he could be angry at her; he wished this were her fault and not his. He bent over and picked up the ring.

"My father and brother don't know yet," she said, her voice slightly more steady. "So just leave town before they do, and you won't get yourself killed."

He nodded mutely. "I'll leave," he promised. "I am sorry. Just so you know."

She shook her head and began to cry harder. And then she ran away from him, to find something familiar to throw herself upon and cry until she was ready to face life.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wishing tears would work for him. But they wouldn't. He looked at the ring in his hand. The second prize he'd won by making a woman throw it at him with the word _hate_ on her lips. It was becoming something of a habit with him, it seemed.

After a while standing there and letting it sink in, he took his chain off and put the ring on it, then put it back around his neck. He had ex-fiancé's last orders. He started walking.

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><p><strong>AN: Well. One more chapter! I hope that was good. It's very hard to write despairing!Gwaine. I have never seen a despairing!Gwaine. Ah, well... Please review and help me with that contest xD**


	8. Chapter 8

"So," Gwaine finished in the same wry voice he'd been using to tell the entire story, "I didn't have anywhere to go. I started wandering again, with less money and less inclination to settle. I started practically living in the taverns I passed through, though—and you know the rest."

"That's when we met you?"

Gwaine nodded. "Yes, that's when I saw you and Arthur in a bit of trouble and decided I wanted in. My entire life story, in one trip. Not bad."

Merlin nudged his horse on a bit more. "I'm sorry about Alice, Gwaine."

Gwaine shook his head and made a noise that might have been a laugh. "I had it coming, I guess—She was right to do what she did," Gwaine said, as though he was concerned that Merlin might start blaming her.

Eyes on the road ahead, Merlin shrugged a little and said, "Maybe you'll see her again someday, and things will work out."

"I doubt it," said Gwaine, without despair in his voice. "I think I heard recently that she may have married. I'm not surprised; there were plenty of men willing to take my place, given half a chance."

Merlin worked his tongue in his mouth, wanting to say the next words correctly and not sound insincere. "Thank you for telling me the story… about the necklace—pendant," he said, and winced because to his ears it didn't sound right at all. "I can see why it's important to you. Arthur just didn't understand that."

Gwaine squinted and looked at the necklace that he was playing with in his fingers and pulling away from his throat. He could see better now, since the sun had come up. "I guess it's hard to understand, why I'm so attached to my failures." He let go of the necklace. "But they're really all I have left of them. Besides, a man keeps trophies so he doesn't forget his victories, so I do the same for failures."

There was really nothing to say after that, so Merlin didn't say it. He just watched the road for a few more moments.

"There's Camelot," said Gwaine, pulling on his horse's reins so he could stop and survey the city by the light of morning. He smiled at Merlin, and there was the old fire and joy for life. Nothing could crush that out of Gwaine, Merlin was sure. "Cheer up, Merlin," Gwaine called to him, laughing. "You look like the world's all black. Home's right past this field." And it was a good home, too, Gwaine thought. Camelot had a habit of adopting strays. He didn't know how to say that without sounding silly, so he just commented, no matter that it did not follow: "I'm glad my wandering took me here."

Gwaine's joy always was infectious. Merlin smiled back at him. "Let's get back to Camelot, then. Arthur's probably ready to kill me, especially if Gaius told him I was in the tavern again. And if he didn't, he's probably worried—which is worse."

"He must have figured out that you would be with me," Gwaine answered as he started his horse trotting through the field.

"Well, what do you think he's worried about?" Merlin quipped, and Gwaine winced as though hurt, but his laughter nullified the effect.

"Come on," Gwaine said. "Let's go see how Percival is healing. I'll race you." He spurred his horse on, giving a whoop into the air – just for the heck of it. Merlin chuckled and followed quickly after him, echoing his cry just because he could.

And the two friends raced back across the field towards their dangerous, adventurous, destined-for-greatness home as the morning sun shone down its approval on the world.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. And this is the end of _Gwaine and the Necklace: The Loser's Prize_. The contest officially ends January 31, so please do review. And thank you to the anon reviewers throughout the story, I really appreciate that you took the time to send me your thoughts. Thank you to the rest of you, too! **

**And… I'll stop blabbing now. **


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